


The Bad Day

by charlock221



Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur has a bad day, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, High Honor Arthur Morgan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24569263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlock221/pseuds/charlock221
Summary: 'There were nights when Arthur couldn’t stand to be in camp. The squabbling, the arguing, the loud yammering all around him frustrated him to no end, and he’d have a sudden urge to get out. Tonight was one of those nights.'Needing some peace and quiet, Arthur gets away from the gang. He finds himself surprised that another encounter with Albert Mason is the thing that cheers him up.
Relationships: Albert Mason & Arthur Morgan, Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775863
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	The Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do a 5+1 fic for Arthur and Albert for a while now. I'm planning for the series to take place at around the same time as the Mason side missions. This one occurs after the first 2 missions.

There were nights when Arthur couldn’t stand to be in camp. The squabbling, the arguing, the loud yammering all around him frustrated him to no end, and he’d have a sudden urge to get out. Tonight, it started with Dutch. Well, it was really Molly, but Arthur wouldn’t be hearing the brewing argument if Dutch actually spoke to her. Laying on his cot, Arthur had been listening to the quiet waves lapping against the shore outside his tent, but the moment he’d heard Molly say “ _Dutch,_ ” in her thick Irish brogue, he’d known a peaceful night was out of the question.

He got up with a sigh, wincing as Molly’s voice got higher in pitch, and ambled over to the cooking pot. There was a bit leftover from the evening’s meal, and Arthur’s stomach rumbled at the sight. He’d missed Pearson dishing up earlier, having been in Rhodes with Sadie, and so he grabbed the ladle, knowing a belly full of stew would take his mind off of his fighting neighbors.

His hand was around the handle when Pearson’s loud voice made him jump.

“Arthur! Got a minute?” The cook appeared from behind his wagon, and Arthur reluctantly put down the ladle and straightened.

“Sure, Pearson.”

“Food’s running a little low,” Pearson gestured to the stew that Arthur had been eyeing up. “I’m gonna be needing more stock if folks are wanting to be fed. Now I think about it, I haven’t had anything from you in a while.”

Arthur wanted to suggest that Pearson think about it a little harder because he had, in fact, dropped a deer carcass on the cook’s table yesterday, but he didn’t see the use in arguing. Pearson would ignore what he was saying and repeat his point until Arthur got tired and left it alone.

“I’ll go out tomorrow,” he said instead.

“Appreciate it, Arthur,” Pearson answered, and Arthur could only watch as he stepped forward and scooped the remainder of the stew into a bowl, wandering away with it with a final nod. Arthur sighed and glanced back at his tent. He could still hear Molly yelling at Dutch, so there was no use trying to sleep just yet. Instead, he made his way over to the campfire. Javier was strumming a gentle tune, and Arthur hoped sitting and listening to him would pass the time quicker until he could sleep.

Miss Grimshaw blocked his path.

“Have you seen the ledger, Arthur?” she asked in a stern tone, her arms crossed.

“Not recently, Miss Grimshaw,” he said, “I been kinda busy.”

“Well, I find that a little hard to believe. You’ve not put much in the donation box for a while, I’ve noticed.”

 _Neither have you_ , he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Any rebuttal would result in a long-winded tirade.

“I’ll get right on it,” he said instead, edging around her. It didn’t help. Miss Grimshaw followed him to the campfire and stood behind him when he sat down.

“You’ve been spending too much time with those good-for-nothing girls. _Some_ of us don’t have time to sit around all day,” she snapped, knowing full well it was going to get a reaction out of Karen. And it did.

“The hell is that old crone saying now?” she shouted from her tent, where she and Sean were sitting together. Arthur was glad she had spoken up; his patience was running thin and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold his tongue.

Sensing a new target, Miss Grimshaw stalked over to her, and moments later a new argument erupted. Arthur rolled his eyes and scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling his temper rise. Was it too much to ask for one peaceful night?

“Arthurrrrr _Morrrr_ gan.” He could hear Reverend Swanson staggering over to him, his footsteps heavy and uncoordinated, and it was at that moment Arthur decided enough was enough.

“Not now, Reverend,” he muttered, getting up.

“I jussst wanna talk to you. Jusss’ one moment of your time, good sirrrrr.”

“I said not now.” He batted Swanson’s outstretched hand out of his way and started marching to where his horse was tethered.

“Won’t take long, won’t take long,” Swanson breathed, stumbling after him. “I juss’ need a favor, juss’ a small one. And m’gonna pay you back this time.”

“Will you leave me the hell alone?” he snapped, his tone sharpening. “Christ, what do I have to do around here to get some damn _peace and quiet_?”

There was a lull in all activity for a brief moment around the camp, as everyone watched him storm off, before the shouting, the yelling, the nagging, the groaning resumed. Arthur mounted his horse and left Clemens Point as quickly as he could.

Moonlight lit the grasslands surrounding him, illuminating many points where he could sit and stew for a couple of hours, but Arthur kept going. The repetitive trod of his horse was almost comforting, and he didn’t want it to stop. Eventually, though, the animal started huffing, tossing its head and jerking at the reins, and Arthur took that as his cue to let them both rest for a while. He slowed the horse to a walk and nudged it off the road, winding through trees until he came across a small creek. Even though it was the middle of the night, insects chirped around him while foxes barked in the distance. It wasn’t the peace and quiet he had been craving, but it was just nature; there was no maliciousness in what he was hearing. It was almost soothing.

The trees around him rustled in the breeze, and Arthur tried to take a calming breath, unassured when it came out shaky. He led his horse further into the woods until he reached a small clearing near the stream and decided to stay there for a while. He was going to give it some time before he went back to Clemens Point.

He gathered some wood and made a fire before settling against a fallen tree, closing his eyes and stretching his legs out with a groan. Listening to the fire crackle, he could forget about the many frustrations of being in camp. There was a slight chill in the air, and he wished it would calm him down, but it didn’t. He was still thinking about what he wanted to say to Pearson, to Miss Grimshaw, to Swanson. If he didn’t live with them, and didn’t have to see them nearly every day, he would easily argue back. He would remind Pearson that he went out hunting at least three times a week, whereas others didn’t at all. He would direct Miss Grimshaw back to the ledger and ask her to tell him why her name wasn’t there, or Micah’s, or Bill’s, or _nearly everyone else_ _’s_. Swanson – Swanson was harmless, the more Arthur thought about it, and there was little use arguing with an addict who didn’t really want to change his ways.

One day, he would leave for a while, like John had, and then they’d all realize how much they depended on him.

Arthur sighed, gazing into the fire. He wouldn’t leave, he knew that really. He’d feel too guilty. Still, it was nice to imagine it every once in a while.

Somewhere behind him, there was a cough.

Arthur was up from the ground and pulling his gun immediately, spinning and aiming it at the man who had been sneaking up on him. The stranger yelped and fell backwards, apparently equally as surprised as Arthur. It was only when he’d had a few moments to adjust to what was happening, that Arthur quickly lowered his weapon.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Albert Mason was sprawled on the ground in front of him, one hand outstretched in a feeble attempt to stop his inevitable demise. At Arthur’s words, he lowered his hand.

“Mr. Morgan?” He frowned up at the outlaw, trying to make him out through the darkness.

“Evening, Mr. Mason. Sorry for scaring ya.” Arthur took a deep breath and turned away, sitting down on top of the log.

He heard Mason getting up. “It’s, uh, it’s quite alright. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. Lost in thought, again.”

Arthur’s head was pounding, and he pressed a hand to his eyes as he said, “Mm-hm.”

“It’s been a while,” said Mason. “You’re well, I hope?” His steps rounded the tree, and Arthur dropped his hand to see the photographer standing awkwardly in front of him.

“Just fine.” He’d met the man twice on his travels, and both times had required Arthur’s intervention. He was glad that wasn’t the case now. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to get involved. “Yourself?”

“Oh, I’m very well, thank you. It’s looking to be a lovely, clear night, and I’ve got my stargazing hat on.” He tapped his straw boater with a pleased smile.

Arthur leaned around Mason to jab a stick at the fire. “Sounds fun,” he murmured, not fully paying attention to what he was saying.

“Yes. I thought so.” When Arthur didn’t say anything, he said, “You’re more than welcome to join me, you know.”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. “I won’t be staying long, Mr. Mason,” he said. “Best you go alone.”

“Ah. No matter. Well. It was nice seeing you again, sir.” Mason offered him a bright smile, and Arthur nodded at him.

“You too, Mr. Mason.”

Mason shot him a slightly bemused look, before turning and trudging through the undergrowth out of sight. He was gone moments later, as if he’d never been there in the first place and Arthur was left half wondering if he’d imagined it. Mason was… odd, for lack of a better word, and Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of him. Unused to traipsing through the wilderness but devoted enough to photography to try anyway, he was more the kind of man Arthur might rob. Mason was lucky Arthur had been alone the day they met; things would have ended much more violently if Bill had been with him, or Micah. It was why he preferred going out by himself: the messes he got into were his own, and he didn’t need to worry about cleaning up anyone else’s. Meeting strange folk like Albert Mason was better when he didn’t have to wonder what the person next to him was about to do.

Arthur was glaring at the fire, lost in his own thoughts, when there was a rustling off to his right, and Mason reappeared, slowly pushing his way through the bushes.

“Sorry to bother you again,” he said whilst untangling one of his legs from a prickly branch. “And by all means, tell me to disappear if I’m being at all irritating,” He paused, frowning at Arthur, “but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur said shortly, trying to cover his surprise at Mason’s reappearance and his subsequent question.

“Yes, I hoped you would say that. But are you sure?”

Arthur looked across to him, torn between asking Mason to go away or telling him the truth. “What makes you say that?” he said instead.

Mason took that as his cue to stay, and he tentatively moved closer, perching on the end of the log. “I just thought it odd that you’re out here in the middle of the night with no intention of sleeping. Something on your mind?”

“You’re calling me the odd one? Pretty dangerous thing to be stargazing out here. You could run into anyone.”

“Thank goodness I found you, then,” Mason said, smiling softly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, Mr. Mason. Just a bad day.”

“Ah. I’ve had my fill of those, you won’t be surprised to hear.”

“I’m not. I believe I’ve witnessed two of those days.”

Mason laughed, a quiet and contained sound that still managed to coax a smile out of Arthur. “That you have, sir,” Mason said. “Although I think one was worse than the other. You haven’t run into a pack of wolves today, too, have you?”

“Not quite,” Arthur said. “More like a bunch of yapping coyotes.” He sighed, dragging his stick through the dirt at his feet. “Feels like I haven’t been able to think all day.”

“You’ve a large family?” Mason guessed, his question soft and hesitant, as if he was worried Arthur might snap at the question.

“Something like that,” Arthur muttered. They were quiet for a few beats; Arthur’s gaze stayed firmly on the ground while his conscience told himself to go back to the gang, to stop moping about in the woods and pull himself together.

He jabbed the stick at his foot, finally saying, “I guess I oughta go back-”

“Oh!” Mason interrupted, suddenly gripping Arthur’s arm while pointing to the sky. “Look!”

Arthur glanced up, where a gap in the trees above them revealed a plethora of stars.

“Over there, that’s Orion,” Mason said. “The hunter.”

“Orion,” Arthur repeated absent-mindedly. He’d never given much thought to the stars; when he slept there was usually something covering his head, and if he was awake then he was likely preoccupied with a job or heist. Now, though, with the fire crackling gently nearby and the only other sounds being crickets chirping faintly, Arthur found himself trying to follow the direction Mason was pointing so he could see what the photographer was describing.

“From Greek mythology,” Mason continued. “He was the son of Poseidon. Do you see the bow and arrow?”

“Yeah, yeah I think I do,” Arthur leaned closer to Mason to make sure he was looking in the right place, until he was able to make out the constellation.

“Oh, and underneath him, just there -” Mason’s hand tightened, and it was only then Arthur realized he was still holding onto him, “that’s Lepus, the hare.”

“Right,” Arthur said, but he was still looking at Mason’s hand.

“It’s at an angle, but you can make out the body, and then the two ears sticking up.” Mason glanced back at him, and he huffed a small laugh. “You’re not looking. Here.” He shuffled closer and pointed again. “Down from Orion. You see it?”

Arthur tilted his head up, following Mason’s direction. “Yeah.”

“And then,” Mason continued, his tone gentling, “you’ve got Canis Major to the left, with that beautiful bright star, yes?”

“Uh, I think so.”

“And above that, Canis Minor, back near to Orion. See it?”

“Hang on. What am I looking for?”

“They’re dogs. Well, they don’t exactly look like dogs. Rough approximations, I’d say.”

“I can’t see these _rough approximations_.”

“Think of them as chasing Lepus. There and there.” He gestured to two clusters of stars, but Arthur still couldn’t see any dogs. “That’s what they’re doing apparently. Following Orion after the poor hare.”

Arthur looked across to Mason, who was still gazing upwards with a contemplative look on his face. “Seems foolish to be chasing something they’ll never catch,” he said.

Mason looked back at him, blinking in surprise. “I never thought about that. I suppose you’re right.”

“The hare survives every night.”

Mason hummed, suddenly looking pleased. “How lucky I was to run into you tonight, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “They’re just stars. It ain’t no big revelation.”

“Maybe not,” Mason shrugged. “But if you strip everything of its joy, where are you going to find happiness? That stream is just water flowing towards the Kamassa River, but with the moonlight glinting off of it, it could be a - a splendid ribbon sewn through the land.”

“A ribbon?” Arthur repeated with a smirk.

“You can’t ridicule that when you’re the one refusing to use your imagination,” Mason argued, his eyebrows raised. “What does it look like to you, then?”

“A stream.”

“Oh, come _on_.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Hang on a minute.” He frowned over at the stream, thinking for a moment. “Alright. It’s a giant serpent, stalking its prey.”

Mason grinned, clapping his hands together. “I like it. You’ve certainly the mind of Orion.”

“Does that make you the hare?”

“Gosh, I hope not,” Mason said with a laugh.

“You do have a knack for wriggling out of tricky situations.”

Mason huffed a loud, put upon sigh. “All of the beautiful constellations, and I’m most like the hare. Wonderful.”

“You shoulda pointed out more impressive ones, then.”

“Fine. Next time we meet, I’ll have some extraordinary Greek deity to compare myself to.”

Arthur ignored the warmth that tinted his cheeks at the certainty in Mason’s tone over them meeting again, and instead he forced himself to stand up. “I look forward to it,” he muttered, offering a small smile. “I think I better be off now. I been away too long.”

Mason stood up, too. “Of course, Mr. Morgan. I shan’t keep you longer than you want.”

Arthur wasn’t ready to admit that he’d happily spend a couple more hours looking at the stars with Mason. He had a job to do, people to look after, and that came first, always. What he wanted didn’t matter. “You take care, Mr. Mason. Look after yourself.” He headed over to his horse, one foot in the stirrup when Mason called after him.

“You too, Mr. Morgan. It was lovely seeing you.”

Arthur’s foot slipped and he cursed to himself, pulling himself onto his horse whilst hoping Mason didn’t see. “Uh, yep,” he called, encouraging his horse towards the road. “Bye now.” He was sure he heard Mason laughing, but he didn’t look back.

Some time later, he arrived back at Clemens Point, and as he hitched his horse he was relieved to hear a near-silent camp. Dutch’s tent was quiet, and Miss Grimshaw was nowhere to be seen. Reverend Swanson, he noted, was passed out by the fire. Arthur wandered over to his tent, taking off his hat and placing it on the nearby table, ready to collapse onto his cot.

“And what time do you call this?”

Arthur jumped and spun, rolling his eyes when Hosea appeared behind him, his arms crossed.

“Surprised you can still stay up this late,” he commented, perching on his bed.

Hosea hummed, looking down at him with a smile. “Feeling better now?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m always inclined to believe you whenever you answer me that quickly.”

“I mean it,” Arthur said. “I just needed some time alone.”

Hosea sat down next to him. “Alright. Where did you go?”

“Not far,” he answered. He always found himself talking when Hosea asked him to. “I meant to come back earlier.”

Hosea shrugged. “You like to go away for days when it’s for a job; you’re free to do it when it’s for yourself, you know. Why the delay in returning, then?”

Arthur glanced at the sky. “You much into stargazing?” he asked.

There was a brief pause before Hosea spoke. “I used to, sometimes. With Bessie.”

“That’s Orion, over there. He was a hunter.” He looked to Hosea, who was watching him with a bemused smile.

“You went stargazing tonight?”

“Ran into someone who knows about it.” Arthur returned his attention to the stars, looking for the other constellations Mason had pointed out.

“Is that right?” he heard Hosea say. Arthur hummed in response, although he wasn’t really paying attention anymore.

Hosea patted his knee. “Sounds like it was what you needed.” He got up and left Arthur to it, and once Arthur was sure he was alone, he pulled his journal out of his satchel. He scanned the sky until he was sure he’d found Lepus and then mapped the stars onto a blank page, sketching out an outline of the hare. He’d left just enough space below to write:

 _Bumped into Albert Mason again. Turns out he_ _’s an amateur astronomer as well as a photographer. He always finds a way to surprise me. Being with him tonight was a welcome distraction from everything. It was nice not having to worry over how we’re going to stay out of the Pinkerton’s grasp._

 _I would like to think I_ _’ll run into him again._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Comments and/or kudos are always appreciated. I've made this a series instead of multiple chapters because some parts might be longer than others, and I prefer to break up my fics into chapters once they're at a certain length. The next one will be up soon!


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